


How to Fit In in Tokyo

by kolibris



Category: Persona 5
Genre: (This Is Stupid), M/M, Silly, Spanking, Subtext, manliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18976249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kolibris/pseuds/kolibris
Summary: Ryuji shows the boy from the suburbs how real men do things in the city.





	How to Fit In in Tokyo

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is really old and honestly pretty dumb, but I always kinda liked it. (I’m easily entertained as you know.) So I went and finally finished it up! Enjoy??

Akira’s ass is stinging. _His ass_.

He wheels around and stares down the culprit: Ryuji’s right hand, still held out post-slap.

“You spanked me,” Akira says in terror.

Ryuji draws his hands back up. “Whoa, the hell? No I didn’t.” He one hundred percent did.

“You slapped my ass, that’s what spanking is.”

Ryuji laughs, loosely folding his arms so the offender is tucked away out of sight. “Dude, are you serious? It’s just a tap. Y’know, like, good job on that run. ‘Cause your form is gettin’ better, and—” His face does a funny jump. “You never heard of this?”

“No one back home ever does that.”

“Well, who cares what they did? You’re here now, we do our own shit.”

Akira kicks at the ground. “Think I’ll just stick to what I know.”

“Come _onnnnnn_ ,” Ryuji whines. “First your miso crap, now this? You’re never gonna be a Tokyo man at this rate.”

“Because miso ramen is the best,” Akira says, “and I’m only here for a year anyway.”

“That’s even more reason to get you right ASAP!” Ryuji hooks the crook of his arm around Akira’s neck and pulls him in close. “Okay newbie, listen up. The technique’s important. You gotta remember these rules.” He counts them off in front of Akira’s face: “Don’t do it too long, don’t do it with both hands and _don’t_ squeeze. Got it?”

“Yeah, I… I think so.” He’s got to turn his head away some because Ryuji’s is so close to his. “I can really just do that? That’s not weird? Because I feel weird about it.”

“Well, don’t be.” And to make his point, Ryuji hauls off and smacks Akira again, _bullseye_ , like it’s no problem at all.

“OW! I didn’t even do anything!”

Ryuji just takes off running again and cheerfully yells back, “That was for takin’ your first step towards real manliness!”

It’s been two months—Akira’s definitely done at least _one_ manly thing in front of Ryuji so far. Hasn’t he? He’ll never be Tokyo born and bred but he’s been adjusting fine enough, hasn’t he? It’s not a big deal at all, but Akira takes too long that night to fall asleep thinking about it.

Over the next week, Akira starts studying. He camps out in the hallway after school and watches the students who pass him by intently, waiting to catch the tap in action, yet there’s nothing to be seen. All he gets out of his research are weird stares and furious gossiping, but neither of those things bother him much anymore. They’re not the ones he wants to fit in with, anyway. It’s kind of dumb; his new friends couldn’t care less about appearances but Akira still wants to impress them, and how can he do that if he’s just the clueless transfer student? 

With this, though, he might have a chance. 

So he diligently puts in his practice with Ryuji after every run, then sometimes after school lets out and even secretly during it until one day he goes to a volleyball friendly, the first Shujin’s had since practice shuttered. It’s not a very good game – the team has been on hiatus for long enough that they get steamrolled – but Mishima’s on as a starter so Akira and Ryuji figure they have to stick around.

They sandwich Mishima after the game’s over, one arm each slung around his shoulders as Ryuji shepherds him down the hall. “Zero-three? Brutal.”

“Literally couldn’t have gone any worse!” Mishima says, dragging his feet along.

“But hey, you did your best out there,” Akira says. 

Then he gets it: this is it, this is the kind of moment he’s been waiting for. It’s now or never to prove himself. So he does it nice and quick, a slap on Mishima’s back and one more down below, and Mishima bolts forward like Akira just hit his eject button.

“ _Kurusu_ ,” Mishima cries, “what the hell was that?”

“The tap.” Akira’s stomach sinks even as he says it in complete confidence, because Mishima’s and Ryuji’s looks of utter horror are still splashed across their faces.

“Ahahaha!” Ryuji bursts out into nervous laughter. “The tap! You know it, right, Mishima? Akira, you’re so crazy, man.”

“What? No, I…? I don’t?”

“WELP! We gotta bounce, later!” Ryuji practically slams his hand down on Mishima’s shoulder until his knees almost buckle and then he’s off, dragging Akira with him by the sleeve to the stairwell and straight down it. They don’t stop until they hit the corner by the guys’ bathroom, the one part of the hallway that’s understandably always empty, and before Akira can process what just happened, Ryuji spins around and shoots him the world’s pissiest face.

“Dude, why did you do that?” he hisses.

“Are you serious?” Akira narrows his eyes. “You didn’t see that spike he did? Did you even watch the game?”

“You can’t just—” Ryuji sucks in a quick breath. “Akira. Dude. It’s Mishima we’re talkin’ about here.”

“Okay?”

“Come on, he don’t know the first thing about bein’ manly. You really think he knows how this shit works? No. So like, don’t do it to him.”

Now this sounds even more complicated. “I don’t get it.”

“Look, just… keep it in the Thieves then.”

Okay, that Akira can handle. There was nothing really _wrong_ with a good high five – come on, it’s just a classic – but tagging in everybody with one was starting to get kind of old. Definitely more special this way if it’s only between the team. Or so he thought, but he debuts it mid-battle when he taps Ann in and gets tapped back—hard, right across the face. She said she was sorry afterwards and he apologized too but man, that hurt.

“Yeah, it’s not a chick thing.” Ryuji taps his pipe against the ground. “Rookie mistake.”

“There’s too many rules to this,” Akira mutters. And the rules aren’t even followed. Ryuji’s definitely done the squeeze once.

Akira can’t do it to Yusuke either because they already have a hard enough time teaching him _not_ to smack people; he bought those fans on discount and damnit, they’re going to use them. Besides, his gigantic tail rolls around like it has a mind of its own and Akira has no clue how to maneuver around that thing. With Ryuji, it’s just easier. No complaints, no worries, nothing in the way. 

Actually, Ryuji must have trouble with Yusuke too because he’s never seen him try. During an extended safe room break, Akira finally gets around to asking him about it. 

“Fox? Who’d want to give him one?”

“He remembered to use his fan today,” Akira reminds him.

“Good for him,” Ryuji says. He reaches up and itches a spot on his head, an old memory of when he didn’t.

“Well… don’t leave him out. He’s a guy, too. So why not? You do it to me all the time anyway.”

Ryuji presses his back into the wall. “That’s ‘cause... I only do it to my best friends,” he says, and Akira fidgets a bit under his warm stare.

So after all that, it becomes something for just between the two of them again. Akira doesn’t mind. He’ll have more time to perfect his approach over summer break. But first, there’s a long overdue welcome party for Makoto to prepare for, which he _would_ have already started on if he wasn’t stuck outside waiting for one last customer to leave Leblanc. If it takes too much longer, he and Ryuji are going to obliterate the snacks before they even get in there. 

Ryuji pauses in his search for first dibs to elbow Akira in the side. “You still down for a run tomorrow?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Just let me know when.”

“You got it, man.” Ryuji hums happily to himself. Must be ridiculously excited about whatever he’s got picked out. “Hey, you know… I blew almost twenty seconds off my PB today. Maybe thinkin’ about our party got me hyped up!” When Akira catches his eye, it’s that same warm look again. “Nah… it’s from puttin’ in all that hard work together, huh?”

“Heh, maybe.” 

There’s a jolt through Akira’s arm like it wants to move forward, almost on reflex. Of course it does – Ryuji’s been dedicating himself so much to his training and it shows, from his results to the proud feeling it gives Akira in his chest. He’s still thinking about it even after Ryuji goes back to rifling through the bag, his hand wavering in anticipation. They’re outside Leblanc, but…

Akira leans over and taps Ryuji anyway. He almost drops the snacks when Akira’s hand connects, stumbling forward with a surprised yelp. Was that a little too hard? But Ryuji beams back at him with a wide, cheeky grin, like Akira just gave him the five-fingered equivalent of a big gold star.

“Oh my god. Are you gonna slap _everybody’s_ ass?”

Akira turns around. Ann and Makoto are there behind them, stopped at a cautious distance away from them in the street, bags of drinks dangling from their hands. Ann’s frown has dropped wide open while Makoto just looks… confused, and maybe slightly disturbed.

“Ann—!” Ryuji yells, his eyes going wide.

“I’m not…” Akira sighs. “...Like I said last time, it’s the tap.”

Makoto’s eyebrows pop up. “The what?”

“The… tap?” He gives Makoto a nod. “Look, don’t worry about it. It’s a guy thing. Between guys.”

“No it’s not!” Ann cuts in. “He did it to me once in Mementos.”

Makoto eyes Akira with an absolutely scandalized look and Akira gives her one right back because whoa, things are being taken SO wrong here. They’re acting like he and Ryuji are these two… ass-grabbing, neanderthal _perverts_ or something—really? Do they have that little faith in them? Akira looks over to Ryuji. He’s expecting a little back-up, at least. But the moment they meet eyes, Ryuji skitters his somewhere else real fast, and he’s gone quiet because he’s eating half of his bottom lip. He’s not even trying to defend _himself_ here. 

Well, then Akira is just going to have to step in for him. He takes a deep breath, shores up every drop of manhood he has and sets everything straight, right here and now. “Okay, that did happen, but that was my mistake, I know better now. I only do it to Ryuji now and he only does it to me.”

“What?” Ann says.

“What?” Makoto says at the same exact time.

“What?” Akira says after them because how is anyone still confused about this?

“Akira… wow, that’s…” Makoto struggles to find the words. “Well, I’m just saying, it’s…”

“Gay,” Ann offers. “Like, SUPER gay.” 

“Shut up, you guys, it’s not like that at all. Right, Ryuji?” Except that Ryuji is gone, and when Akira looks down the street he can see him already rounding the corner at top speed. ”Uh… I’ll be right back.”

It’s not hard to find him. Akira hasn’t been in Yongen for all that long but he knows there aren’t many people here who’d squat out in an alleyway and shout obscenities repeatedly, so Akira just follows his ears. Ryuji shoots up to his feet as soon as he sees Akira coming, but instead of taking off again, he stays put with the sorriest look Akira’s ever seen on him.

“What’s wrong? Why’d you run away?” 

“Ann wasn’t supposed to see that…!” He hangs his head low. “‘Cause then she’d start askin’ questions and you’d start blabbin’ your mouth and incriminatin’ us and… ugh… now look…”

“I was just telling the truth,” Akira says. “She’s the one reading into things.”

“I… y’see, that’s the thing, man… ” Ryuji peeks up. “I might’ve made the tap into a bigger deal than it really is. Or like… into a thing. At all.”

Akira takes a step closer. “You made this all up?”

“Wait, lemme explain,” Ryuji blurts out, “it’s not—I wasn’t tryin’ to trick you—look, I kinda did it without thinking and I had to come up with something!”

Akira thinks his entire face might melt down.

“So we’ve been congratulating each other by our asses this whole time just because you made it up.”

“No, I mean, dudes do it in sports, sometimes, kinda,” Ryuji weakly mumbles.

“But all the time? Everywhere? For everything?” Akira asks, and Ryuji shakes his head. “Well… what about the Tokyo Bro Booty Bump?” Another shake. “And the man-to-man power snuggle?” And again—Akira heaves his shoulders up and lets out a long sigh. “Is any of this real?”

Ryuji sinks further into despair. “I’m a real dumbass.”

_Aren't we all?_ Akira thinks in a rare moment of insight. 

And in a revelation more surprising than the first, he decides that he doesn’t really care. So what if he didn’t actually learn much of anything, except that Ryuji was an idiot, and a liar, and more acquainted with his ass than any other person here was ever going to or should be, but Akira went right along with it anyway without two brain cells to rub together. He won’t impress anyone else other than Ryuji with what he knows now, but maybe that’s all he wanted in the first place.

Akira holds out his hand. “Come on.”

“Huh?”

“It’s okay, I forgive you. Come on.”

“You… do? For real?” It takes some insistent hand wiggling before Ryuji snaps his palm into Akira’s and gets pulled up off the wall. “Akira… you’re… damnit, you’re a true man!” He looks almost misty-eyed. “You don’t need to prove shit to anybody. You’re one of us, man. Never should’ve doubted you for a second—”

“Alright already! I get it.” A little flustered, Akira pushes Ryuji along so they can finally get going. “You’re gonna have to explain all of this to the girls, you know.”

Ryuji stops mid-gush in cold fear and Akira, god help him, feels a little bit sorry.

“…But I’ll help you out.”

“Like I said! Freakin’ _legit!_ ” 

And like a true man, Akira takes the tap that boots him into the bright light of the street without a word of complaint, even though that was _definitely_ two hands.


End file.
